Pendragon Island
by inukshuk
Summary: Arthur welcomes Merlin to a new phase of their relationship. Have appended Pendragon Island II and III. Explicit Merlin/Arthur slash. Rated M, NC17. You have been duly warned.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: Pendragon Island

AUTHOR: Inukshuk

SPOILERS: None

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RATING: Contains explicit sexual slash content. Rated M / NC17

* * *

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program "Merlin" are the creations and property of Others, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

FEEDBACK: yes please … writers need food. Suggestions, comments constructive criticism always welcome. As ever thank you to everyone who writes. You all are so generous I can never tell you how much it means.

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Pendragon Island

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Arthur had always known.

It was just something about Merlin that was there all the time – a permanent state of being. It was obvious. Undisguised. Unwavering. Merlin had a youthfulness about him – a softness and slimness of form that Arthur had never had; different and opposite from he who was - his father's son – broad, powerful, muscular. They were both the same age but Arthur had a maturity born of experience that Merlin still – distractingly – lacked. His skin was white – almost translucent if he stood at the right angle in the right light. His hair was dark and perpetually tousled – as if there might be some secret lover that habitually played his fingers through his hair. His wrists were flat and stuck out from sleeves that were always an inch too short. Merlin – was for all these eccentricities and flaws – striking. It might have been his eyes, how they could tease and glisten when he smiled and how they could hold an expression that revealed sincerity and conviction and character. The blue eyes had a depth to them … as if they held a secret that had not yet been revealed.

This attraction was made more intense for Arthur because Merlin was so unconscious of his allure. Arthur was certain Merlin himself was unaware of his inclinations. It meant that Arthur felt his presence like a buzzing in his head; Merlin's voice and touch so preoccupying that it periodically – during moments of idleness and boredom - led him to distraction. Wisely, he let Merlin be and refused to force a discovery upon him. Yet this unshared insight made Arthur protective and he insisted on Merlin's company when others might have been – in some fashion or another - deemed more suitable. The longer their association, the less noticeable it became to others but the more distracting it became for Arthur. Some days it was enough to simply have him near to disturb his equilibrium. Unfairly, Arthur perpetually disguised his reactions as annoyance and sarcasm. Merlin took the brunt of it but it was the only thing he could do. Their growing closeness achieved something more; it was a message to the Others that Merlin was not be touched.

For the longest time, Arthur simply let it be. The lack of understanding fascinated him and – because he knew Merlin was not aware of his sexuality – Arthur enjoyed his innocence in all its facets. It was the way Merlin brushed his shoulders in long, firm strokes to smooth the fabric when he dressed. It was the pure concentration on his face when he buckled Arthur into his armour; the way the light reflected off his metal chest plate and gave Merlin an angelic ethereal appearance. It was the intensity of his eyes when Merlin looked at him and paid attention; so riveted that Arthur could almost lose his train of thought. It was the way he averted his eyes from Arthur's morning arousal, devising a privacy that Arthur did not require.

If Merlin did not know or understand, Arthur saw no reason to ruin it. He had the liberty of a Prince and the convenience of an army. He had no shortage of adventure and satisfaction. He could wait for Merlin and he became protective of the innocence – he wanted to be his guide, to share in the discovery and act out what had become - for Arthur - a persistent fantasy.

There had been so many moments where it all could have changed. An unexpected show of affection. A moment of horseplay – a pillow fight or a friendly tussle. A moment of epic sacrifice – each would die to save the other. How could anyone resist such divine devotion? Every time, Arthur took care to study Merlin closely and, when he saw no change, no unspoken meaning in his eyes, he let the moment pass and allowed Merlin to slip away once again in ignorance.

When it happened for real, Arthur did not see its approach. It simply happened without warning and after that moment, it all changed.

Arthur had been angry. The joust had gone badly – a mistake on Arthur's part left him frustrated and annoyed at himself. He had thrown his metal gloves one by one and yanked to remove his breastplate by himself. The armour did not cooperate and the distraction of the buckle had gotten in the way of venting his spleen.

"Calm down." Merlin had said, willing to withstand the temper to assist him.

Arthur did not want to calm down. It was a silly thing to say and, alone in the tent, Arthur used Merlin as a new target of his verbal assault. He continued to yell and came forward, swiping away Merlin's helping hands. Boldly going forward, Arthur forced Merlin to back up until his was pinned against the rough table. It wasn't fear but Merlin's cheeks had become flushed and he stumbled trying to step aside. Arthur had moved forward to rescue him from an awkward fall and after a strange moment where Arthur steadied him, they simply looked at each other. Neither blinked but Arthur knew that the moment had come. He knew all at once he was being seen in a new light – knew he had become something more, something different to Merlin. For Arthur, his final test was a reflexive glance downward. Merlin had become aroused by the energy, the stimulating athleticism of their exchange. Discovered, Merlin's hand fell down to mask it and he turned to the side, trying to conceal this unexpected interest.

Arthur took another stride forward. He felt a frission as he stood with his feet slightly apart, his friend inches away. So much could happen now.

"It's alright, Merlin. You don't have to hide."

He looked up, slightly afraid and not trusting. It was as much the confusion of discovery as not understanding what had happened and uncertainty of how to navigate these sudden feelings.

"I didn't mean to …"

Arthur slid his hand down the inside of Merlin's arm and coaxed away the hand that was cupping his groin. Gentle interlinking his fingers, Arthur drew him closer until Merlin took an awkward step towards him. He waited patiently until Merlin could look at him. The long eye lashes blinked and the eyes darted here and there. The high cheek bones remained flushed. Arthur felt himself aroused and would have brushed the hand against himself to prove that he – too – had understood the moment in the same way. He cursed the armour he wore and squeezed the hand he held.

"Merlin." He leaned forward and whispered into his ear with gentleness. This ease and calmness seemed to settle Merlin. The blue eyes finally lifted to look at him. The sweet mouth and red lips beckoned. With intent, Arthur touched his chin with his finger and lifted. He kissed him once to break the spell and a second time with a teasing tongue that Merlin did not quite understand and pulled away from. The third time, Arthur became insistent and pushed open Merlin's mouth until he let out a moan.

"Arthur." He said when the kiss terminated. The fingers tightened, as if using this as a way to keep him close. It was an unconscious plea for more.

Outside the tent, trumpets blared and Arthur heard his name called for the next jousting round. "Merlin." He answered softly and let go of the hand. "I have to go. Later. If you want …"

That evening, everything was late and it was dark and settling into midnight by the time Arthur was ready for bed. Merlin had arrived with laundry and stacked fresh linen into the wardrobe. Arthur shed his boots and shirt and – as he did every night – crawled into the center of the bed. His bed was a dominant feature of the room – a massive four poster bed, canopied and laden with pillows and draped in deep red. He often considered this place Pendragon Island – a private oasis where he could be alone or with another. This night, he considered his choice for company.

"Merlin." He said, propping himself on his elbow and rolling to his side. He let his legs scissor and push forward the fullness of his groin. "Do you want to stay?"

"Here?"

"For the night." Arthur let him consider it and did not rush or argue it. It occurred to him that this invitation might never be accepted. He remembered how he had felt when it happened to him. He had needed time – first – to adjust. If Merlin wanted to leave, he would understand. It was still so fresh and new for him.

"Yes." Merlin said, closing the wardrobe and – not knowing what else to do – stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as if waiting for direction. Arthur gladly offered his left hand – his index finger with the pewter ring extended out like a painting. Merlin took his hand and as Arthur moved aside, he crawled into bed and settled beside him.

"Boots." Arthur said, and Merlin removed his boots. "Coat." He said next and that was also removed. "Tunic." Halfway off, Merlin became entangled in the clothing. Arthur smoothed his hand up the bare chest, over the downy hairs and watched as Merlin's muscles tightened and reacted to his touch. Continuing upwards, Arthur gave the fabric a tug that freed him.

"And this scarf." Arthur said finally, attempting to unknot the back.

"Like this." Merlin said, lifting it over his head easily. He smiled. "I do know something."

"Yes. You do." Arthur said, letting his hand float down, teasing and circling nipples that had hardened. He moved lower, lingering over an abdomen that was not used to his touch and then settled over Merlin's groin, softly, gently finding his outline and, having found it, started stroking with a light, unhurried hand.

"Does that feel good?"

Merlin answered with a gasp, letting his head fall back with a soft sigh and relaxed his knees until they fell apart a little. Arthur leaned down and kissed him and this time, Merlin's mouth was open, waiting, anxious to receive him. Merlin had lost no time in learning, in discovering how to receive Arthur's tongue and then tried to give the pleasure back but it was all too new and too hard to concentrate with all the sensations. Surrendering and leaving it all to Arthur, Merlin's soft moaning rose and fell with each kiss until finally Arthur settled him back into the pillows, his hand still working on his groin, slowing and pushing harder against the stiffness. Reflexively, Merlin pushed up his hips into his hand and grunted.

"Shhh." Arthur whispered, easing up and letting Merlin recover. He moved his hands upward, stroking the full of his chest, tracing his thumbs over nipples and watched his breathing ease. Then, when Merlin opened his eyes again, Arthur straddled him and brushed his hands over the edge of his trousers, tugging a little to communicate what he wanted.

"Can I touch you?" Arthur said, knowing what the answer would be.

"Yes." It was hushed approval, gasping and slightly nervous.

Leisurely, he untied the trousers and pulled them down in stages, exposing Merlin's shaft in deliberate slowness. All at once, Merlin interfered, not able to stand the wait. He pulled at himself to remove flesh from fabric and shuddered with the pleasure of touching his erection.

"Merlin." Arthur chastised, taking hold of his wrists and moving them aside. "Let me." Arthur immediately caressed him with his own open hand. Merlin shuddered, sinking back into the pillows and did not resist. In stages, one stroke after an other, Arthur closed his hand tighter and tighter until his fingers were wrapped completely around Merlin's hard penis, pulling and coaxing and massaging. Merlin moaned again and every third or fourth stroke, he pushed up his hips, trying to learn the timing. Then, just as Arthur went down, Merlin pushed up and it was right. Merlin gasped and immediately moved his hips again and tried hard not to call out.

Arthur released his hold with a final delaying pinch at the tip and let Merlin enjoy the sensation of hardness, of the swollen ache that had not yet been satisfied. Lightly, Arthur passed his palm over the very tip and at the apex, felt the first milky wetness.

He settled on all fours over Merlin and whispered tightly in his ear as he lowered himself letting his bare abdomen brush back and forth over the moist swollen head.

"You've nearly come, Merlin. You are so hard …" Arthur ignored his own aching desires to push himself down and enjoy the sensation but he resisted and retreated, sitting back on his heels to give himself only momentary attention. Then Arthur began again, stroking Merlin's groin anywhere but there, fondling his testicles and then, when Merlin began getting restless and began keening, Arthur licked his finger and used his ringed left index finger and traced it up and down the bottom of Merlin's shaft.

"Please …" Merlin said. "Do it."

"Do what?" Arthur smiled. It was a deliberate tease.

"I don't know." Merlin shifted from side to side, unable to break free of Arthur's deliberate pace and thrust his hips up again. "I … "

Arthur retreated once again and then took Merlin in his mouth. His taste was salty, sweet – and the sensation of his tongue and his suckling made Merlin gasp.

"No." He said … fingers flew into his hair and pulled at him trying to remove Arthur from him. "I'm going to …"

Arthur understood and retreated. He covered Merlin's erection with a silken square of fabric and gave him hard, rapid strokes until Merlin's raspy breathe ended in a groan and he came. Arthur kept going, milking him several times and each time, Merlin threw up his hips and cried out. The fabric was wet and Arthur used it to collect what had dripped to Merlin's thigh.

Then Arthur settled beside him and collected Merlin into his arms – his penis still exposed and his trousers at his hips. Once or twice, Arthur kissed him and then – as Merlin's breathing slowed – he found his mouth open and willing to take him. Gently, he eased his hands down Merlin's back and over his buttocks, stroking and teasing and inching towards his entry. Merlin shifted and moaned, not quite aware of the index finger pressing him open. Arthur ached to have him – to come down on him and to give him pleasure.

Next time, he thought as he pulled the covers over the both of them. Next time.


	2. Chapter 2 Pendragon Island II

TITLE: Pendragon Island II

AUTHOR: Inukshuk

SPOILERS: None.

FOR STORY CONTINUITY: Read Pendragon Island first.

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RATING: Contains explicit sexual slash content. Rated M / NC17

* * *

DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program "Merlin" are the creations and property of Others, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

FEEDBACK: yes please … writers need food. Suggestions, comments constructive criticism always welcome. As ever thank you to everyone who writes. You all are so generous I can never tell you how much it means.

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Pendragon Island II

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Merlin awoke in the middle of the bed. He lay there on his back his body taking on the form of the letter T – arms extended and his legs parallel. By the strength of the sun, he knew it was well into morning but this realization did nothing to make him move. Tardiness was a periodic fault of his because he could take blissful moments like this and revel in them. He had few luxuries in life – sleeping late was one of them – mostly because it was so rare. Now, when the opportunity arose, he relished it. He was warm and comfortable and sleepy and content. Moving slightly, he felt his trousers at his knees and the soreness of his member and then he began remembering.

Arthur.

He pushed his shoulders down and lifted his neck to look around. Arthur was gone. Had he slipped away without waking him? Did he start his day for once with out Merlin and allowed him to sleep in? He felt a momentary burst of gladness and lay back down into the pillows. Perhaps it had been Arthur's indulgent exception to mark Merlin's first time – a knowing understanding that today Merlin would be able to think of nothing else but him and his warm wet mouth and his strong deliberate hands and the sound of his voice whispering, husky and low, encouraging and coaxing him. The memories swirled about him like the musky scent that surrounded him now as he lay in bed – in _his_ bed.

Merlin felt suddenly dizzy. There was a flutter of sensations at his groin and he stayed still, thinking of Arthur and the night before. His body ached; from exertion, from friction, from focused attention on places that seemed to be made of nothing but raw nerves. Merlin had been handled with hands that were strong and knowing; kissed by a mouth that was insistent but capable of tenderness. Merlin had never imagined that it would be like this.

In a few short months, he had gone from a vague yearning for something he could not define to creating a fantasy out of a few moments that had happened on a hunt. They had been trekking through forest, silent and focused. Merlin had been following Arthur from behind and, watchful of his footing, unaware that he had stopped. Merlin hit him full on – flush front against his broad back. Arthur had been immovable and unharmed but it had annoyed him because the disturbance had cost them a deer. With a powerful arm, Arthur took Merlin into the crook of his elbow and easily prevented his struggle to free himself. Arthur lifted him up and Merlin was kept off balance and legs apart, Merlin fell against him and bumped his groin into Arthur's solid hip.

"Pay attention." Arthur had said, his lips so tight against his ear that the sound of his voice – demanding and hard - went straight into the depths of his brain. Then Arthur had let him go – a release that was sudden and dismissive. That moment, that _feeling_ had robbed him of words, air, senses but it had left Merlin with a racing pulse and a light-headed, perverse desire to create another interruption so he could recreate that reaction. He repeated the scene over and over in his head, sculpting a fantasy with Arthur that he knew he would never have. Then – in such close and constant company with Arthur – he began noticing details that he had not expected would arouse him; the tautness of Arthur's muscles, the confident way he stood with his feet apart and his hands on his hips when he addressed his knights, the violent power he had on attack, the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he laughed. Merlin had kept his thoughts secret; his moments of awkward self-pleasure hidden in a little-used corner of the Royal Stables.

Then yesterday – Arthur had done badly at jousting. His reaction had been fierce, powerful. Merlin had tried to help but it had only made him angrier. He could still remember the pain as Arthur swatted him away with stinging blows – one hand, then the other – still advancing, enervated and strong. It had been Arthur's eyes – flashing and focused – that had done it. All at once, Merlin was aroused by him and he tried to hide it but Arthur noticed everything.

Then last night, his tame fantasy with Arthur turned into a reality that was beyond his wildest imagination. Arthur – Crown Prince of Camelot – had raked his hands down to tease and had used his hands to fondle and his mouth to … Merlin felt himself grow warm and more enervated at the memory.

"Arthur." He sighed and whispered to no one and imagined him still there. What would Arthur have done if he was still here? Merlin filled in the action with vivid recreations of the previous night – those being his only references - then gradually he moved his hand down, over his stomach and felt … fabric?

He sat up suddenly and drew back the covers. Tied around the base of his penis was that piece of fabric that Arthur had used to contain his emissions. The cloth was white and folded narrowly so that the embroidered small red dragon was displayed at the end. It hung on him like a loin cloth.

Merlin smiled to himself. It was Arthur's amusement; a way of marking this occasion, of saying that this too was property of the Pendragon. Merlin let out a subdued chuckle and traced the outline of the animal. Arthur must have done this while he was still asleep. All at once, he could not imagine being so soundly slumbering to have Arthur handle him like this without his notice. Perhaps he had been truly spent. Perhaps Arthur had such stealth and a touch this deft. He knew his sound sleeping would have made Arthur grin. Merlin settled back into the bed and wondered if Arthur had kissed him goodbye and he wondered where he might have placed the kisses.

Merlin felt no need to get out of bed and – moreover – he knew he would not be able to concentrate on anything else if he did. It was best just to lay back and let the sounds and sensations wash over him like warm waves seeping into sand. Thinking of nothing but the feel of Arthur's hands against his skin, he traced his palms over his chest and then went lower, letting his fingers play at the edges of his groin.

Arthur.

Merlin conjured up his image without effort. All at once he had in his view those brown eyes that were partly obscured by brilliant blonde hair that seemed to reflect golden bursts of light in the sun. Broad shoulders and powerful hips were connected by a hard, muscled chest. He stood there in Merlin's imagination, feet apart and confidently naked and for once, Merlin could stare openly at his mildly aroused state. Arthur had a size and circumference that was almost out of proportion for his body; but it suited him – suited his station in life, his strength and prowess as a soldier and a hunter.

All at once, Merlin wanted him. Here. Now. He wanted Arthur's hands on him again making him feel like the earth's energy was coursing through his veins as he had the night before. He wanted to be fondled and caressed and kissed and be at the very centre of this bed; this apex of Arthur's world and never leave it. He let his hands push into his groin and let the hardening flesh expand against his palms. Another surge of pleasure blossomed at his touch and softly he moaned.

"Merlin?"

Merlin withdrew his hands with a jumpy yelp. He sat up, his heart racing and saw Arthur – the real one, not the one of his imagination - enter the room and close the door behind him. He was dressed in his red leather doublet, leather pants and boots. He must have been riding and had come straight from the stables because he still wore the leather gloves. Arthur blinked, unhurried and heavy lidded and was slightly amused as he walked towards him.

"You _are_ up. I was wondering if we should ever see you at all today."

He arrived at the edge of the bed and sat relaxed, with a foot folded into the crook of the opposite knee.

"How are you? Bit sore?"

"A little."

"I'm sorry about that." He said and it sounded sincere, slightly sheepish. Then he began to smile – teasing and wicked. "Do you want me to kiss it better, Merlin?"

"I … uh …" He was not sure what the right answer was until Arthur began tugging at the edge of the covers. The answer must be yes, he supposed. Arthur did not need to wait for verbal confirmation because Merlin went ahead and exposed himself and in his eagerness missed the opportunity for play.

Arthur laughed quietly, fingering the small piece of fabric. "Merlin. What is this? A wrapped gift? For me? You really shouldn't have."

"I only just woke up. I didn't have time to …"

"We'll take the trousers right off this time, shall we?" He stood up and pulled at the ankles and with a strong yank, removed them entirely. "That's better." The power of the motion made Merlin's member wag and bounce and grow harder.

Arthur remained fully clothed and crawled between Merlin's legs and positioned himself on all fours over him. Then he leaned in, used both hands to brush back Merlin's hair and kissed him – a warm, open-mouthed kiss that made Merlin moan and squeeze up his groin. As Arthur continued to explore Merlin's mouth, he drew a leathered index finger down the length of Merlin's middle – between his nipples and around each one in turn, over his stomach and lower abdomen, then below that and looped and caressed his erection with the crook of his finger.

Merlin stretched, opening his legs further and circled the broad shoulders with both arms, trying to pull him down. Something in him wanted his body flush against Arthur. He wanted to feel the weight of being laid upon and how Arthur would lower himself down in stages and what it must feel like to receive this solid, muscular force upon him and how they would fit against each other. But Arthur saw to it that this distance persisted and it tormented him as Arthur continued stroking him with fine, subtle movements that sent lighting bolts of energy through his groin.

"Don't stop." Merlin whispered, closing his eyes and feeling the intensity of his arousal rapidly peak. It was fast this time – perhaps because he had been longing for Arthur, had been thinking about him and remembering and was already aroused. Perhaps it was because everything about Arthur excited him in a way that he could not contain. With Arthur's unexpected appearance – Merlin was ready, ready once again to be stroked and caressed and mastered. His body was not his own and he surrendered it to Arthur.

Merlin squeezed shut his eyes as he felt the leather hand circle him tightly and begin rubbing him in a rhythmic way. It was too much stimulus too fast and Merlin had not learned any lessons of control. Before Arthur could continue any further – to caress and fondle, to kiss him or lower his mouth to suckle, Merlin groaned in the pleasure of release. It was far too soon and all over before it started. He gasped at the intense shock of his orgasm and the absolute disappointment that it had happened so quickly. There was a momentary pause and then the hands stroked him, not to stimulate but to comfort.

"Merlin. We shall have to teach you how to sustain yourself."

Merlin felt embarrassed, as if he had disappointed not only himself but Arthur as well. Arthur had made a particular effort to return just to see him and provide him this intimate, private pleasure and it had been hardly worth it. It was over in seconds.

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

"It happens." He said, still fondling him gently, using the back of his finger to stroke him as one might the cheek of a sad child to console him and give him reassurance. "Why don't you stay here and get some sleep?" He neatened the tie and arranged the fabric so it was aligned with his shaft once again, then drew over the covers and tucked him in. Merlin did not want Arthur to leave. He wanted to wrap his body around his and let the heat of his body lull him to sleep like it had done the previous night.

Arthur seemed to read his expression. "My father is expecting me at court. There is a delegation to receive and it will be a long day. You are … welcome to stay here … if you like."

Merlin would not have moved from the spot if the very castle had fallen down around him. After Arthur left, he dozed on and off the rest of the day and every time he awoke, he was frustrated to discover it still daylight. Then, about mid afternoon, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When he awoke he yawned and flexed all his muscles like a cat, feeling refreshed and awake. He looked outside and smiled. It was dark. Outside, he could hear approaching footsteps and his smile deepened as the door opened.

After greetings of no consequence, and an inquiry and dismissal of a military delegation that neither were interested in, Arthur took off his gloves, tossed them aside, and asked, "Shall I show you what to do?"

"Yes." Merlin said and the answer thrilled him.

Encouraged, Arthur removed his coat and, instead of throwing it to the floor he took care to drop it over the back of a chair as if out of deference to his servant. Pulling off his boots one at a time, he crossed the floor and stopped at the bedside to remove his tunic, crossing his arms and grabbing at the bottom. His broad chest expanded as he drew the hem up over his head and his blond hair flipped back into place as he separated from the garment. He drew the fabric in front of him and Merlin watched the muscles of his shoulders expand and contract in concert with his motion.

"Move aside," Arthur said, discarding the tunic and crawled onto his bed. He grabbed a couple of pillows one by one and stacked them into place, then sat and leaned back, comfortably seated.

"Come here." He said, inviting him with a patting of the empty spot on the bed between his legs.

Merlin stared at the place on the bed and then at the leather breeches that seemed to be tighter than usual. He crawled over and turned, settling and his flesh sizzling with the touch of Arthur's chest against his back. Arthur kissed his neck, once twice and then gently encircled him, using his wide palms to ease over his flesh, fingers rising and falling in light spidery circles.

"Hands here this time." Arthur took his wrists and tucked them behind him so that his palms were flat against Arthur's stomach. "Now lean back. Very good." He said and Merlin closed his eyes, revelling in the gravely vibration of his voice. The strong arms wrapped around his middle and hugged him then Arthur withdrew letting his hands move here and there, strumming Merlin's flesh with smooth fingertips as if he were a lute. More kisses were laid down along the side of his neck and Merlin tipped his head forward to encourage it. Arthur continued exploring his chest, then lower and lower still until he traced his fingers across the top of the fine hairs of his groin.

"I can't believe you still have this on, Merlin." He said and looped a finger into the fashioned cloth and removed it.

"Don't lose that."

"Heaven forbid. Now pay attention." He said and slipped his hands down the inside of his thighs and back again. His hands were firm and strong and Merlin closed his knees against the motion, making the strokes even stronger. Merlin had no where to go but to lean his head back in a deep sigh. Once, twice … then over and over the hands went down and back – knowing fingers exploring and lingering, teasing and not quite touching. Merlin was hard and Arthur had done almost nothing. A momentary panic set in thinking it would happen again – that he would not be able to last. He squirmed and tried to break free from the spell of Arthur's attentions.

"It's alright, Merlin." Arthur circled him with another calming embrace. "Breathe."

All he could accomplish was shallow gasping and that was not what Arthur had wanted.

"Deeply. Breathe deeply. From here …" Arthur placed a hand over his lower abdomen and let it rest there so he could watch his progress. "Breathe." He repeated and held him still, letting him focus. Merlin sighed and felt himself calm. He took a few breaths and the untamed sensations eased.

Arthur seemed to sense when he had recovered enough to continue and then began anew; running his hands down Merlin's thighs again and this time, retreated upwards and caressed his testicles for a time and then moved his hands around the shaft of his penis. Merlin tried not to move his hips and grunted from the exertion of resisting it. Deliberately, Arthur began fondling him, keeping his fingers tightly wrapped around him and avoiding the tip. The air felt suddenly cool and Merlin knew he had become moist in anticipation. He could think of nothing but of Arthur touching that place – that exquisite electrifying and sensitive place – and then that feeling that only Arthur could create … Merlin grunted again, this time with a feral energy that sprang from inside him. It was not quiet and sounded like frustrated agony – like an anticipation that he could not control.

"Not yet." Arthur said, squeezing the tip and forcing the sensations to subside. Once again, he embraced him in a centring stillness. "Breathe." He whispered.

Merlin concentrated once again. Momentarily, they were motionless except for their breathing. Arthur exhaled with deliberateness, as if he were sustaining an unknown effort. Then Arthur moved again but this time it was not for Merlin. He bent a knee and then opened his legs a little and shifted and adjusted the other knee and finally – almost unwillingly - in a tense, controlled motion he lifted his groin until it pressed tightly into the small of Merlin's back. He eased himself only partway before he pressed again. Arthur's breathing was deep, forced – mastered – yet Merlin – with his hands flat across Arthur's stomach - felt an intense tension of muscle and sinew as he inhaled.

Was he - ? Merlin whispered, curious and wanting to understand what had happened. "Arthur?"

"Yes." He said, "If you want." And began with another series of kisses that felt as if they suppressed a hunger.

Merlin knew he had been misunderstood but he was powerless to stop Arthur's attention on him. The hands began moving again, up and down in rhythm that was harder that before and Merlin groaned, feeling the intensity rise almost immediately. Arthur traced his palm across the tip of him and he nearly cried out from the power of the touch. Another piece of fabric appeared and Arthur circled him and stroked him hard and tight, with a force so strong that Merlin could feel himself begin thumping against the fullness of Arthur's groin. The power of Arthur's caresses made Merlin gasp; he had no endurance or ability to withstand it. Arthur did not stop in time and delivered one more stroke – powerful and selfish - and opened himself up wide to take the brunt of the energy in his groin. Arthur let out an animal grunt that resonated from deep within him – primal and enervated. Merlin's hair stood on end – it was the most amazing sound he had ever heard. It was a growl that became a roar; and more than that … an agony of submitting to not-quite but full of the wild, desperate energy of wanting-to. For long unending moments, Arthur rested his hot forehead on the nape of Merlin's neck and remained still. Merlin froze and listened to him breathe – hard, controlled and deep.

Arthur.

What had made Arthur stop? He was intensely aroused, capable of taking and having whatever he wanted and yet he had subsumed his desires. Merlin knew he had done it for him. All at once, Merlin was overwhelmed with a desire to find Arthur's mouth, to move and trace the outline of the bulge that was still tight against his back and please him the way he had been … he imagined undoing the leather trousers and … he could not finish the thought because Arthur had encircled him again and began stroking him with strong deliberate motions. Merlin felt the earth open up and the energy radiate through him. With a soft gulping cry, Merlin felt his body give way and he came.


	3. Chapter 3 Pendragon Island III

TITLE: Pendragon Island III

AUTHOR: Inukshuk

SPOILERS: None.

FOR STORY CONTINUITY: Read Pendragon Island I and II first. They are loosely related …

* * *

RATING: Contains explicit sexual slash content. Rated M / NC17

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DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations of the television program "Merlin" are the creations and property of Others, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.

FEEDBACK: yes please … writers need encouragement.

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Pendragon Island III

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When Arthur awoke, Merlin was gone.

The bed seemed empty without him.

Arthur rolled to his stomach and tried to shake off the heavy, distracted feeling of abstinence. For two nights in a row, he had put all his desires and yearnings aside and remained unsatisfied. He had done it for Merlin – so that Merlin could experience this corporeal newness in all its wonder without the distraction of another's needs. Arthur wanted him to know he was the only focus and at the centre of Arthur's consciousness and attention. It had required effort – and last night at one point – he was not sure he would be able to withstand the irresistible temptations that Merlin stimulated in him. Merlin – for all his awkwardness and innocence – had a powerful hold on him. Perhaps it was because Merlin was so unpractised, so natural and naive.

Had Arthur surrendered to himself, he knew that Merlin would have been overwhelmed by his appetite and would not have had the physical endurance to withstand Arthur at his fullest vigour. Even as protective and mindful as he had been, Arthur knew he had been too forceful. He had let himself become distracted by Merlin's inexperience. His reactions had been so pure, so real and new that Arthur had been swept away by the singular chance to show him, to be Merlin's guide and reveal – for the first time – the pleasures that Arthur had so long wanted to give him. He wanted Merlin to feel as he did but forgot that his attention would be too intense for Merlin; Arthur had left him sore and more than once startled from the degree of passion he possessed.

Arthur rose from his bed and noticed a breakfast already laid out of him. He poked around at the plate and found three of his four favourite foods arranged in good supply. There had been a benefit after all to his restraint.

He dressed and avoided giving himself much attention. Any preoccupation with self would have made him late. He did not tolerate lateness with his Knights and he dispensed with pleasure to maintain his good example. He had a sensation that time was running away with him and he had the curious sensation that he might never have sex again.

Out on the training ground, his troops had assembled in a loose formation and he quickly marshalled them into their usual drills. They were good men all. Some lacked maturity. Some confidence and some skill. A few – however - possessed all three qualities and these men were his elites – the men who stood first ranked among them. He paired up his men for close hand to hand combat and Arthur chose one of the best of these peers – as he often did – to be his partner. Leon was a bear of a man; made of nothing but solid bone and thick muscle. He possessed an innate centeredness of both body and mind that made him one of Arthur's most trusted soldiers. Leon also had a quiet constancy, an understated, wise way about him that Arthur looked to when he was in need of insight and good advice. There was another secret aspect to Leon that had long since earned Arthur's extreme loyalty. It ranked Leon a man above almost all and made Arthur particularly attached to him.

Leon was the first man who ever saved Arthur's life.

Others had done it since; some more than once. But Leon was the first and it had a profound effect on Arthur. It had not at all been like Merlin's efforts - who had an odd, complicated way of saving his life. There was a strangeness to what Merlin did – a convoluted obliqueness in how he accomplished it, as if it had all might have be done by slight of hand and might have been explained by some other means. Leon – on the other hand – had used nothing but raw physical power. This broad-chested warrior had saved Arthur's life the hard way – on the battle field under the disorienting pressure of an ambush attack with a sword clenched in his hand, a primal yell in his throat.

x x x x x x x x

Uther had sent Arthur out on his first patrol. Arthur had gone with two soldiers and Leon. They were half a day from the Castle when they were attacked without warning. One of Arthur's soldiers was slain before he was off his horse. A close battle ensued and they were just slightly outnumbered. With sword drawn, Arthur had dismounted and engaged in tight combat. As his attacker came for him Arthur did as he had been trained to do. He killed him where he stood; a single blow straight to the heart – deep in and then fast out. His attacker froze and dropped to his knees. With a shocking lack of sound, he clutched his mortal wound and lifted his gaze. The green eyes were bright and wide and Arthur would remember them forever. They stared at each other – the man's eyes speaking to him, mourning a life unlived and then collapsed to the ground – dead.

The fight whirled around Arthur as he continued gaping at the corpse he had just created. This was the first human Arthur had ever killed. It was different than an animal; different then watching an execution; different than watching someone die of natural causes or gutting the straw men they used in training. This time – Arthur was responsible – responsible for the death of another human being; the solitary agent in terminating a life. It horrified him and the shock of it rooted him to the spot.

"Arthur!" It was Leon's call to attention.

He turned and at the last second, saw the last enemy soldier bearing down on him with a sword held overhead in attack. Arthur had been off-centre and blindsided. Arthur had no chance to react and all at once, he suddenly understood what those fresh dead eyes had been trying to tell him – no, not yet – let me live – for that was what Arthur thought. He knew he would die and could never be able to react fast enough. Regret weighted him down. To Arthur's credit he tried valiantly to defend himself but the soldier had the advantage of time and height, surprise and experience. The sword was not raised high - it was not elaborate or epic – just an efficient blow being sent true and clean to its target.

Just as Arthur prepared for the final blow, the soldier fell, screaming and clawing, on top of him. Arthur remembered feeling that white hot fear of terror – every nightmare ever had come true in a single moment. Time slowed as he began to realize that he had not been killed. He threw off the corpse and looked up. Leon stood over him, the bloodied sword still in his hand and an expression vaulted satisfaction – as if he would have never allowed anyone to harm Arthur. The spell was broken as voices rose up in the distance.

"There's more approaching." Leon alerted him and grabbing his shoulder, pulled him into action. They ran – having lost their mounts – into the thick of forest and ducked behind the first tree that could hide them from view. Leon slammed his back against the trunk and pulled Arthur in close, allowing them to hide in a single place. Leon encircled him with protective arms and made them one. Arthur stumbled and fell into Leon, straddling his left leg. They were both out of breath and Arthur heaved and gasped – from exertion and the sheer terror of both having killed and nearly having been killed. He felt turned inside out – all his nerves on the outside, exposed and electrified. A few moments ago he had thought himself dead and now he was alive. Energy – exuberant and victorious - coursed through his veins, stimulating his senses until his flesh crawled with a brimming life force that he could not contain.

The voices faded away. Seconds passed in suspended animation, then in the rigid stillness, Arthur became overwhelmed with a sudden compulsion. He knew instinctively it was in his nature and felt driven to do it; if he did not, he would die. He trusted this man who had just saved his life and simply knew he could not help himself. Still breathing heavily, Arthur pushed his groin into Leon once. His thigh was strong and hard; muscular and unmoving.

The sensation of being able to press what was most sensitive against the willing flesh of another stimulated a cascade of potent tensions. Arthur was instantly aroused; Leon did not react. The irresistible sensation compelled him to do it again, this time harder, with enough force that Leon could not ignore it. Leon turned to him and held his gaze. His expression was benign, pensive. Very slowly – as if testing to see how far it would go and expecting at any moment to be stopped – Leon let his hand trace downwards over the small of Arthur's back and then over the curve of his buttocks, squeezing momentarily and then rested there. Arthur's blood began pounding anew – this time not from terror or exertion but desire. He began breathing from deep within himself – coarse panting, trying to control his body but failing. Connected suddenly to impulses that he did not adequately understand but knew had absolute rule over him, Arthur pushed into Leon once more – insistent and demanding his attention.

It was simple, uncomplicated and intense. Leon exposed only what was needed and stroked Arthur until he came. The ferocity of his orgasm left him weak-kneed and off-balance and Leon steadied him and offered his body to lean against. Afterwards, Leon kissed him on the mouth and lingered with a delicate indulgent sweetness, as if welcoming him after a long wait and kept his arms secured around him, providing comfort and safety and stillness where Arthur could recover without rush or shame.

Leon had been Arthur's first – his only guide long ago – and as Arthur matured in skill and taste and capacity, then Leon discretely introduced him to others – hand picked and tested – who could teach and satisfy him in new, more sophisticated ways.

x x x x x x x x

On the open field, Arthur felt like a feral animal in heat. Discontented, he used the training session to dispel his excess energy and executed the drills with a vigour that left his knights breathless. He put them through their paces, participating along side them as he did so. Long swords, defence, short weapons until they were sweaty and making noises to help sustain their efforts and showing the first signs of fatigue.

Leon stood in front of him as a partner and Arthur swung his sword in an arrogant, needlessly showy arc before striking with his full force. Leon blocked and took a slight step back at the unexpected battle-conditions power that Arthur felt compelled to use. This was not a training session of half measures. Arthur swung again and his blow ricocheted with a colossal thud. A third time, he let loose and struck – first with his sword, then his shield and then with an undaunted, unapologetic advance that Leon had not expected. He retreated and stumbled. Leon received the ensuing blows, and was bowed by them temporarily. Arthur let a moment go by, waiting for Leon to relax and when he did not, Arthur took another large swing at him in frustration. Leon fell backwards and looked up, an unspoken question on his face as if wondering what had prompted Arthur's unprovoked rage. He was not angry; simply curious.

Arthur was out of breath from the effort and finally acknowledged his temper as an unreasonable reaction to his state. As a truce, he held a hand out to Leon and helped him back to his feet. They came in close to each other – shoulder to shoulder - in that way men had to confirm that there was no hard feelings or mal-intentions. Arthur thumped him on the chest and drew him slightly inwards.

"Tonight." Arthur whispered the word and it was lost in the noise of clashing swords and shields and the other soldiers training for battle. Leon did not make eye contact but dipped his chin down in the most discrete fashion to acknowledge the order.

x x x x x x x x

Arthur waited in his chambers, sitting on a chair with one foot up on an opposite chair and a goblet of wine half gone. As he always did on such occasions – he dismissed Merlin early to ensure privacy. Merlin – to his credit – seemed self-absorbed and took the direction without argument. His blue eyes glistened at Arthur and he could see the newly found splendour in Merlin's eyes. There was also an unspoken gratitude for the chance for rest and escape. Arthur was certain now that he would need to be more gentle and less adventurous – Merlin could not withstand it – at least not yet. He had smiled inwardly at the thought of what practice it would be for them and waved off his servant with a hand.

"Good night, Merlin." He raised his goblet in a half salute and drank as Merlin exited.

His glass of wine was not yet finished before Leon knocked and, after entering and providing each other welcoming greetings, he was offered and accepted a goblet of wine. They clinked glasses before drinking and Leon wandered behind Arthur and let his hand squeeze his shoulder and then smooth over his front, gently fondling his left pectoral. From behind and above, Leon leaned down and gave him an upside down kiss on his mouth, then wanting more, put his goblet aside and tipped Arthur's chair backwards. Arthur arched back to welcome him and felt himself suspended in air. Reaching up, he caressed Leon's face and strained to keep him near.

After a time, they parted to catch their breath and Leon gave them both distance, wandering over to Arthur's four poster bed. Stopping in mid-stride, he reached down and pulled up a blue-grey scarf that had been dropped and lost under the bed. He held it up like a dead rodent but smiled a little, looking at it back and front and then made a pronouncement.

"This is Merlin's."

Arthur flicked his eyes up to capture and momentarily avoid a steady gaze. Leon knew about other lovers; he had introduced Arthur to almost all of them. Why was Merlin any different? Without knowing how or why, Arthur knew he was. Taking Merlin was not just taking another lover. It was something far more; something that vaguely felt like destiny. It was immutable and permanent and Arthur instinctively understood that after Merlin, no one would ever compare. He would be ruined forever; there would never be anyone else.

"Have I been replaced yet?" Leon asked, returning and slipping both hands over his chest and kissed him on the neck. Arthur kicked down his leg and stood, pushing aside the chair and folding into Leon, feeling a sudden heartache like they were parting forever and not wanting their union to end. Leon's hand moved down and cupped his buttocks and stepped flush against him.

Arthur kissed him gently. "How can I ever replace my first?"

"It will happen one day." Leon said, and returned kiss adding to it depth and texture and a push of his hips in a deliberate grind. "I have missed you." Then he added, "My Prince."

Merlin may have been on his mind more than usual. He had not considered himself neglectful. Arthur felt the need to defend their time apart. "It's not been so long."

They fell into their well-practiced custom with each other. Leon reached down and fondled Arthur, tracing his growing fullness leisurely. "Long enough." Leon said, amused at his double entendre.

Arthur stood with his legs slightly apart and braced himself for more attention and began enjoying the sensations of being aroused by another. Leon used the full of his hand, up and down the inside of Arthur's thigh, caressing his penis that was growing hard and trapped in his pant leg. Arthur communicated his desire with his kisses, making them fulsome and letting the suppressed hunger of the last two days finally emerge. Leon – he knew – would be able to match him and satisfy him with an unrestrained completeness. Leon stimulated him until he could no longer keep himself from pressing his hips forward. Leon's hand was there to receive him, as he always was, to caress him in the way that made Arthur feel like he ruled the world.

Arthur let his forehead rest against Leon's and he grunted with pleasure, moving his hips periodically in small, short bursts of energy. He was restrained but he ached to be otherwise. He savoured knowing the future. It would feel so good to let loose the restrictions and simply be as he was – strong, powerful, dominant.

"God." He said, his arms wrapped tightly around Leon and revelling in the experience with half-closed eyes.

"Am I?" Leon chuckled, giving Arthur some space to calm himself. "I had forgotten." He began removing his tunic and trousers and stood before him, aroused.

Arthur peeled off his clothing before closing the gap between them and clasped Leon in his hands to fondle him. Leon allowed Arthur several firm greedy strokes – letting him caress and squeeze and play with his hardness. Arthur could never keep his hands away from him; that flesh was as thick and solid as his own and its sameness distracted him. They put themselves together, lining themselves in parallel opposition and stimulated each other at the same time. Then Leon let his hands wander and slowly he dropped down to one knee and licked him, once or twice from below at first, then eased his mouth over the hard, pink head and suckled. Arthur pushed forward in a slow continuous movement, Leon holding his hips to steady and help him maximize the penetration.

Arthur closed his eyes and began pumping his pelvis and revelled in the pull Leon put on his insides and how it filled him with power and energy. Arthur was thunder that had held back; lightening that had not yet struck. He placed his hands on Leon's head and ran his fingers into his hair, trying to caress him but abandoning polite tenderness to tightly entwine his fingers into his hair and gripped to pull him forward. He sighed and groaned and knew his sounds aroused Leon. Arthur was rewarded for it. Leon continued moaning softly and making a vibration that radiated into Arthur's body like the destruction of an earthquake.

"Now." Arthur said huskily, withdrawing from Leon and tucking a hand under his arm to lift him to his feet. "Now." Leon knew what he wanted – he always knew, even when Arthur himself did not.

Leon turned his back to him and braced himself against the massive oak pillar of the poster bed. Arthur reached from behind and fondled him and Leon opened his stance, allowing the fullness of his erection to stand free and be teased and pleased by Arthur. Eventually retreating, he abandoned Leon and took himself in both hands and leaned forward slightly. Arthur found his entrance and pushed his thickness in just a bit until Leon groaned at the effort of receiving him. It was the approval of exquisite effort and Leon braced himself as Arthur went a little further and then – in a series of little pushes and pulls where every push was just a little deeper – Arthur slid inside. He began thrusting himself, harder and harder, and Leon simply let him – able to bear the brunt of this energy without effort. The oak pillar began to creak and shudder and the sound of its distinctive loud beating rhythm made Arthur high and reinforced his energetic moves. There was not yet enough power to satisfy and he grabbed Leon's hips and as he pushed forward, yanked Leon into him and their legs slapped together in unison. At each powerful thrust, they both grunted and Arthur felt the energy of orgasm begin to spiral around him and lift him into a euphoria of invincibility. He dominated and then, from the other end of the room, he heard a gasp. The intrusion did not make sense to him and the interruption infuriated him because it distracted him from savouring the fullness of this moment that he had not had in days.

He bared his teeth, struggling to delay his exhilaration and looked up.

Merlin.

He stood at the doorway, staring with eyes as big and round as the moon. His face was a mix of shock and disbelief.

Arthur should have acted differently – found some way to withdraw and explain and placate - but he was held prisoner by his body. Everything he should have done was impossible. All he could do was to picture Merlin in Leon's place. He mouthed Merlin's name, desperate for Merlin to read his lips and understand the depth of his desires and see that this was not what it looked like. It was a simple trick of the mind – Arthur imagined he was with Merlin, not Leon. Arthur shut his eyes feeling his body release the pent up energy that Merlin and his skin and his body and his inexperienced body had created for him. Arthur had abstained until he could no longer withstand being unsatisfied. He released his powerful orgasm and Leon and the oak pillar took it all and just as he subsided, Leon began with himself and – oblivious to Merlin's witnessing – worked himself vigorously until he too came.

When Arthur looked up again, Merlin was gone.


End file.
